Good to you
by ipodder
Summary: God, who knew it would be Julian Baker, out of all people, to make her jealous, make her terrified. Make her feel everything she wished to feel, dreamed to feel, but doesn't want to. Brooke/Julian oneshot 6x23.


_**Spoilers: Takes place in 6x23, with slight adjustments.**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing but this story. I don't own 'Good to you' by Marianus Trench feat. Kate Voegele, which i strongly recommend to all of you, seriously awesome. **_

_**AN: This feels a bit random, a bit out of the blue, a one shot with no planning or clear plot line really, but i think it really captures the essence of Brooke/Julian, well, i hope anyway. Please leave a review! **_

_'You tried to push everyone away!'_

_'Anyone who tried to be in my life, Peyton, boys, you pushed them all away!'_

God, her own words are still haunting her, creeping up at random moments, but as she shakes its persistence away, attempting to rid it by gulping more wine. She looks around her, it's Lucas and Peyton's wedding day. Honestly, she feels nothing, not even when Haley made that joke in Peyton's bridal tent.

That's got to mean something right?

If she no longer has lingering feelings for the squinty blonde, she can fully love Julian, right?

Yeah, right.

After so much progress, she's back to her schemes, her games, her flirty banters and husky suggestions. God, who knew it would be Julian Baker, out of all people, to make her jealous, make her terrified.

Make her feel everything she wished to feel, dreamed to feel, but doesn't want to.

Does that even make sense? She's been waiting for someone like him since, well, since forever, and now that he's here, wrapped in a quirky, yet articulate parcel, especially handed to her by Lucas Scott.

Talk about irony.

No, she argues with her conscience, the real irony is her instantly running away, leaving fresh track marks, or so to speak, the second he says it's good to see her. One grin and she forces herself into Nick Lachey's arms, literally. She signals the waiter for another bottle of merlot, before insisting that it'll go on her tab, and settles back into the comfort of her own excuses.

God, she must be one pathetic bitch to make excuses to her own self, inside her own head.

Kissing Nick was a pleasurable mistake, she's not sure if it's the buzz, or if his lips really were that big. She scoffs and instantly brings the wine glass to her lips, allowing the merlot to burn her thoughts about how perfect Julian's lips are, how they cradle hers perfectly.

She never wanted to let go, she swears, honestly.

She stops for a moment, as the cheesy love song suddenly stops playing and the room continues to spin. She squints slightly and sees a faint trace of Junk and Fergie, god, even they have dates, she's pathetic.

But on a more serious note, it's scary how she's just immune to love. By immune, she means that she guards herself from love. Of course, she welcomes men and casual dinners and sloppy kisses in the back of her limo, when she had one, that is. But with Julian, she got worked up on a business meeting and spent half the night trying to scoot closer to him, imagining the feel of his stubble on her smooth chin.

Yeah, she never wanted to let go.

It isn't even really about her past romantic failures, well, not only about them anyway. Sure, she hates the feelings of disappointment that Owen stirred in her, although they weren't really anything and she struggled to even define what they were, even when they may have been 'something', she hates the feeling of la la la love that came from Chase, the typical high school romance that may have been forever for some, but he was too naïve, and she was already a few steps in front of him. She hates the feelings that Felix gave her, love feelings that she was in no place to give, and her mind slightly wanders to the Latino, momentarily smirking at his most recent christmas card, swarmed by toothy smiles and a beautiful wife who was able to give him everything she wasn't willing to. She hates Nick Chavez for making her cringe every time she hears about an inappropriate student/teacher relationship, and she always wonders why Haley raises her eyebrows when the topic comes up, as if she knows something. She hates judgement, that's it, and that's why she hates feelings of loneliness, of her heart breaking, all due to Lucas. True, he was the only boy who made an effort to see her.

But then her mind goes back to Julian, and the fact he didn't really have to make an effort to see her, he was her, he lived her, breathed her and..

he loves her. Imagine that.

She still can't shake off the words ringing in her ears, even with the fifth, or was it seventh, glass of merlot and a slightly bruised looking Julian spinning her around to some 'kill me now' Peyton Sawyer playlist.

Victoria pushes people away.

She pushed her own daughter's loves and friends away.

But the irony, the real twist is that she does it too.

She's doing right now, with this amazing man that she's pretty sure she loves, or can love.

No, she does love him, which is why she has to run.

She's never known anything else.

So she does it the way she knows how, and makes some half hearted excuse that shouldn't even qualify as a bad excuse, and after whispering that she misses him, as some sort of consolation to both him and herself, him, in order to soften the blow, and her, to reassure herself that she's not some narcissistic psychopath, runs towards the nearest exit and pushes her key into the BMW, and races home.

In between that horribly delicious ice coffee from Dunkin Donut, and stupid love songs from some stupid college radio, she reaches a moment of clarity, ones that Lucas and Peyton have based their whirlwind romance on, and at this moment, she wonders why she used to mock them for it, because they don't call it clarity for no reason.

It clarifies things, feelings, thoughts and emotions.

She, Brooke Davis, is her mother.

Yes, they may not dress the same, love the same, or even like their coffee the same way, but her core, resembles Victoria Davis's. Who was she to stand there, blasting at her mother for pushing people away, her people away.

She did that enough for both of them.

So she drives back to the reception, hoping Julian will still be there, but really, knowing he'll be there, because they're the same.

And she's right, for once, because sitting on the stone cold pavement, is the dashing film producer boy himself.

'I'm sorry for leaving like that'

His eyes look worn, handsome, but worn, weary and tired, like he doesn't want to stop clinging onto what they could be, doesn't want to stop fighting, but at a certain point, there's nothing else to do but wait, or abandon that hope completely.

If it was a movie, it would end different.

He doesn't answer her, instead gazes into her eyes, waiting to hear what half hearted excuse she'll come up with again.

'Right'

But he shakes his head in amusement, because nothing is right at the moment, and she's never been much of a linguist who can utter romantic words that melt hearts, she's more of an action, gaze and hidden affections type of person.

Brooke Davis loves in silence.

How screwed up is that? Romantic? Completely dysfunctional?

All of the above? God, she's so sober this won't even come out right.

Ironic, much?

So she does it the way she doesn't know how, because she figures it'll probably work out better than what she knows to do. She sits beside him and places a hand on his, hoping that none of her friends are around to see this sentimental moment.

That's what her problem is, she's not afraid of crying over Angie infront of Lucas and the entire airport, not afraid of showing her love for Sam.

But she's afraid of her love for Julian Baker, because he can break her, but she thinks..

no, she knows now, that she trusts him not to.

'I'm not good at being in love, Julian.'

He doesn't move, and she's pretty sure he's already given up. But she takes comfort in the fact that his hand is still clasped tightly with hers.

'I've never been one to boldly proclaim my love in front of the whole school, I'm not good at being vulnerable, because it scares me to feel so exposed, so weak and affected. And i know, that i haven't really given you what i asked for from you, which is bad of me, but i think that with time, i really want to try because I-'

Her lips are suddenly claimed by his, interrupting her rambles and incoherent words.

'I don't care, Brooke, you don't have to rush everything at once. I know you're here, it's okay. I know how you feel, and it's okay that you can't physically say it, as long as you show it. It's okay, i'll be here, always.'

She sighs, both in frustration and relief, because she's tired and confused and worked up, this is too spontaneous and she wonders if it'll ever work out for her.

But as his smile turns into a grin, and he kisses her head, she realises that she's been crying, but she doesn't really care about the running mascara or looking like a sensitive, pathetic vulnerable bitch, because she's all his, he's all hers, always has been, before she really understood it herself, and she allows herself to cry in his arms.

The best thing about this is that he doesn't even need to ask why.


End file.
